


Sunny with a chance of metaphorical rain on my parade

by Birdgirl



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: For My Moirail, M/M, Tentacles, eventually at least - Freeform, hope he likes it, kind of a song fic, totally abusing the additional tags line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdgirl/pseuds/Birdgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Procrastination. Humiliation. Loneliness. Being stood up by your studious boyfriend on what was supposed to be a romantic Saturday night at Arby’s even though he promised he would be out of the lab by nine even if time started crawling slower than a snail. Love is all around us. Welcome to Night Vale.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tonight's Broadcast (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashestocrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashestocrows/gifts).



“Hello listeners. To start off today’s news; I would like to announce that the old woman Josie, (the one who lives by the car lot) has reported that the angels are doing just fine, and that despite all of the work they have done for her house, she has kept them healthy and happy by serving them dozens by dozens of wheat and wheat-byproduct free corn muffins, this time with plenty of salt. These are, apparently, an angel’s favorite food.

“The angels themselves do seem to be happier. I have been informed by our intern, Miranda, that they say old woman is a godsend. This in and of itself is quite miraculous, assuming the source where it came from. They seemed to be in a very pleasant mood, said intern Miranda. According to her report, they say that today is a day to spread love, joy, happiness, and…

“Dear listeners, I know this is not a personal station, and you of all listeners probably do not care about my personal life, but… CARLOS. Listeners, may I just say that Carlos, our new scientist with the perfect, perfect hair, and perfect, perfect features… may not be so perfect after all? 

“Listeners, if you were dating a perfect man such as Carlos, would you not expect perfect, or perhaps even just slightly over average, credibility from the one you call your lover? Would you not, dear listeners, be upset if you were stood up by a beautiful scientist with perfectly chiseled features, and ended up waiting outside under the menacing presence over the Arby’s sign for 3 hours? Of course, because that is the normal reaction that every self-respecting citizen of Night Vale would have in the face of such a-“

*beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*

“…I apologize, listeners, for my prior monologue. I am informed that such personal outbursts on the radio are quite inappropriate and that for your safety and my own, none of us should ever speak of this again. Try not to think about it if you can, either. This message was whispered hurriedly to me through the doggie door that now exists at the foot of Management’s door, in what I assume is Miranda’s (you know, the intern?) voice. Regardless, please make sure you remember that thinking about what I said is probably a danger to both yourself and your family, and so you probably should forget that I said it at all.

“And with that, let us move on to the weather…”

Right from the start  
You were a thief  
You stole my heart  
And I your willing victim  
I let you see the parts of me  
That weren't all that pretty  
And with every touch you fixed them

Now you've been talking in your sleep, oh, oh  
Things you never say to me, oh, oh  
Tell me that you've had enough  
Of our love, our love

Just give me a reason  
Just a little bit's enough  
Just a second we're not broken just bent  
And we can learn to love again  
It's in the stars  
It's been written in the scars on our hearts  
We're not broken just bent  
And we can learn to love again...


	2. The Cecil Retrieval area in lane 5

“And now, let us move to our overnight random sound feature. I invite you all to enjoy the soothing sounds a tree falling in the forest, though there is neither a forest in Night Vale in which a tree would fall (though there are some that whisper), nor anyone that could hear it fall if there was. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.”

Cecil flicked the switch that shut off his microphone, simultaneously flipping another to play the loop recording of the silent falling tree. He slumped back in his chair, sighing and just sitting there for a moment; mood decidedly grumpy even though today’s broadcast went pretty well today. He wanted to go to his apartment and crash on the bed and sleep. He wanted to see Carlos and… he also didn’t want to see him. It was a weird feeling; but then again, what wasn’t weird in this place? Guess that’s just the way it is.

He picked up his pack, stuffing a few of next week’s scripts into it that he received from a time traveler tomorrow. Or something like that- with time travel being lawful in Night Vale and all, it really was quite hard to tell. He shrugged, turning out the light as he left the studio, calling out a ‘good night’ to the intern Miranda. He wasn’t really surprised when she didn’t reply.

/

“Teddyyy, waht ammi gonna do? He ruend my nite… he left me undur the arbys sign…”

2 hours later, Cecil sat at the counter of the bar at Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Fun Complex, swilling down another gulp of beer, alone save the owner, Teddy Williams. He watched Teddy with slightly unfocused eyes as the Fun Complex owner distractedly acknowledged him, at the same time pointing the head of a pitchfork menacingly down the pin retrieval area of lane 5.

“mhm.” He offers, not really paying attention to the Night Vale radio host.

Cecil went on anyway. “I TOLD ‘im not to maek uther plans. He’s always doin’ that. HE’S ALWAYS DOIN’ THAT!” he slammed the beer on the bar table, using his free hand to gesticulate wildly.

“It’s always ‘oh but Ceeecilll theres all these fancy shmancy siesmodoodles and science-y thingies and time in nite vayl’s slowin’ down and blah blah blah…” he sinks his head onto the table, closing all of his eyes and laughing sourly to himself. The only response was a half-hearted grunt from Teddy, who now stared menacingly at the alleged underground city entrance.

Cecil went on with this for a while, wallowing in self-pity and complaining to nobody, before the cowbell at the door jingled and a new arrival stepped in. The other two Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Fun Complex residents took almost no notice of the visitor. Despite his admittedly perfect hair, perfectly chiseled features, and teeth like a military cemetery, it wasn’t until the newcomer put his hand on Cecil’s shoulder did the blonde slowly blink open his third eye, groaning when he saw who it was.

“Carloooooosssssss…” he slurred. “I don’ wanna talk to yu…” he waved his hand like he was swatting a fly, and closed his eye again.

Carlos sighed, shaking Cecil’s shoulder a bit. “Cecil, I understand fully that you are still angry because of my untimeliness last night, and that is completely understandable. However, you should not be out this late- especially ingesting alcohol at this rapid of a pace-“

Cecil interrupted him, whipping around on the barstool. “Alcohol doesn’t exist!”

Carlos shakes his head. “Cecil, you’re clearly inebriated, and alcohol in beer does most certainly exist- at least, in every other part of the world. Come on, babe- let’s go home. You need to get some sleep.”

After a bit more groaning and half-hearted attempts at resistance, Cecil gave in, slumping into the passenger’s seat of Carlos’ car, falling silent as Carlos started their drive back to their apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> argggh can't come up with title names at night...


End file.
